


Tear You Apart

by klowntatorship



Series: Dragon Age Fics [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, no beta we die like men, sorta kinda maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klowntatorship/pseuds/klowntatorship
Summary: It was unspoken, but he loved Dorian. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though each time he didn’t it left a feeling of bitter regret to curl in his stomach. There was a fear of those words, they weighed a lot, and even if he was sure it was mutual, he couldn’t say it. As Dorian had once said, this arrangement wasn’t wise.
Relationships: Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Series: Dragon Age Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015296
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Tear You Apart

It was hard to find moments alone. Time never allowed for it; the two would’ve been inseparable had it not been for pressing matters that come with the title of being the Herald of Andraste. Which was comical in its own right, Veslyn, a Dalish elf, a tool for a religion he had no faith in. Still, he never tried to step down. People needed him; they believed in him. And regardless of his own thoughts on the title, he knew that there was  _ something  _ important about him. Such a moment like this was much appreciated. In the confines of his ( _ their _ ) bedroom, he wasn’t the savior of humanity within these stone walls; he was just Veslyn.

Nimble fingers brush along the desk, he sat atop, feeling the grooves of the wood below him. He watches Dorian close, watches the way the mage browses the books lining the shelves. Half of them were of a political nature; things that Josephine had said would serve as valuable reference points for him. The other books were books that Dorian had brought up from his alcove in the library. Slowly leaving remnants of himself through the room, making the room just as much his as it was the Inquisitors. 

Dorian turns to face him and smiles, his eyes crinkling in the movement. Nothing was troubling about his face; he had a look of peace that took over his features. It was a refreshing look, and he couldn’t help but mirror the smile.

“Been a while since we’ve had a moment alone, huh?” Veslyn hums, hopping down off his desk to approach Dorian. Wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, he leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Dorian’s lips. The finely kept mustache masking tickling his skin.

“Too long. Always so busy with this whole, saving the world business.” 

It had been a long time since they had been able to steal a moment away like this. Three, four weeks now? He wasn’t sure, perhaps it had been less, but with such a hectic lifestyle, the days all seemed to bleed together. Sure there had been passing quickies here and there, but they had been just that,  _ quickies _ . There had been no time to savor the moment, only to get off and then run off to the next matter of the day. So to have a night like this, a night where they could just relish the feeling of one another’s touch, it was damn near priceless.

“Who would’ve thought the Inquisitor would be so easy to bend to my will.” Dorian muses, teeth sinking into the base of his neck. His hands slide down Veslyn’s back, stopping to grasp at his behind “So desperate for whatever I’ll give him.”

“Vhenan” The elvish flows off his tongue naturally, ripped straight from his throat at Dorian’s rough touch. Dorian’s hands bordered on desperate, mirroring Veslyn’s own feelings and only serving to heighten his desire. “ _ Please _ .” 

“You haven’t a clue what you do to me, do you?” There’s something more to his words, a specific tone that lingers for a second too long before being enveloped with lust. A silent declaration that neither was willing to voice quiet yet. A calloused hand from continuous usage of a staff curls around Veslyn’s wrist, quickly bringing the elfs hand to the hardening length beneath extravagant robes. “Feel that? This is what you do to me, Amatus. Thought about bending you over that war table of yours.” He can’t help the breathy tone that takes over as the elf begins to work his hand of his own volition, eager to please the mage. “Tell me, Ves, have you thought about me?”

Veslyn nods eagerly at that, rocking himself closer to Dorian with almost embarrassing desperation. “Think about you all the time,” He moves to press his face into the crook of the man’s neck, a weak attempt at hiding the blush that painted his cheeks and spreads to the tips of his pointed ears. “I don’t think my fingers do you justice.”

“Oh.” Dorian laughs at that, his form shaking with it. “My my my, what a little minx you are. The Herald of Andraste touching himself to thoughts of a Tevinter Mage no less.” He dips his head lower to press his lips against the elf’s ear, the coarse hair of his mustache, causing Veslyn to twitch. “What would mother Gisselle think? Or your followers?” 

The elf thinks about that for a moment. What would they think of him in such a scenario? He’s sure they’d curl up their noses and sneer at the mere thought of Inquisitor Lavellan sprawled out on the four-post bed crying out to his own Gods. It could be seen as blasphemous, he thinks. Though he’s not sure what they’d expect of a Dalish elf. Would they see this as a weakness? Submitting easily to another when he was meant to carry the weight of the world upon his slender shoulders. He didn’t ask for this; he didn’t ask to be some sort of savior or protector. He wasn’t about to change that on account of the cards he’d been dealt with by some cruel twist of fate. 

“Damn them all. I don’t give a damn what they think. I just want you to hurry up and fuck me.” It’s a plea of desperation and frustration. A different look for Veslyn, any venom or wit that he may have held prior, was lost. It feels almost unrecognizable to him. He sounds like a stranger to himself as he bends easily to the will of the man before him.

“A man who knows what he wants, I like it.” Dorian hums as he pulls away from Veslyn to undo the intricacies of his robes. “But you’ll get what I give you, Ves. Understood?”

Veslyn whimpers but nods, his ears flattening as a show of submission. Eager lavender eyes watch the man’s movements, and as much as he wishes to reach out and touch the other man, he knows not to. He can feel it in the air, and it keeps him grounded in place.

Dorian makes quick work of his robes, taking extra care to set his clothes on the chaise till he’s left in only his small clothes. The elf is damn near salivating by the end, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“So patient,” Dorian comments before taking a step closer. He quickly discards the remaining piece of clothing, having no issue tossing that garment to the floor. “On your knees, Amatus.”

Veslyn’s knees feel like jelly at those words, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought this to be the work of blood magic or some other magic he had little understanding of. Yet he knew this was just a cumulation of thoughts reaching its boiling point. He had wanted this for some time now, had spent countless nights fantasizing of it. It consumed his thoughts, often at very inconvenient times. So he follows the command, sinking to the plush carpet below.

It doesn’t take long for Dorian’s cock to find it’s way into the Inquisitor’s mouth. Neither of them could be that patient, especially as it had been so long since they last got a moment to soak in the pleasures they brought one another. 

Veslyn is practiced in this, knows what he’s doing, and exactly how to please the man above him. He works his tongue carefully, dragging the flat of it along the vein that lines his cock before sinking to the base where his nose presses into finely kept hair.

This was one of Veslyn’s favorite things. The taste of musk and precome that was so distinctly Dorian was damn near intoxicating. It made his mind swim and his heart pound. And the feeling of Dorian, thick and heavy on his tongue with the subtle ache of his jaw. He pulled off just slightly to alleviate that ache, turning his attention to suck and swirl his tongue around the leaking head.

Dorian can’t help but wonder how many men Veslyn had done this for. If he always submitted like this for his partners or if this was just for him. It was hard to believe that the Inquisitor would offer himself up so fully, but perhaps, this was a much needed moment of reprieve for him. To allow someone else to control him, to call the shots and be in charge. Dorian was happy to be that for his lover. 

“Enough.” Dorian’s words are heavy, breathless as he drags Veslyn off his cock with a degree of hesitation. He lets out a small laugh, “Should you continue to use your mouth like that, I’ll end up finishing before we get to the main event.” 

“Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There was the sly wit he had grown accustomed to. There was a playful glint in the elf’s eyes, a look of pride knowing how close he had gotten the man to finish. It always felt good knowing how good he could make the other feel.

“Certainly not. Now undress and get your ass on the bed.” Dorian smiles, reaching down to offer his partner a hand to pull him up. The elf takes it, pulling himself up before tossing his clothes into a mess on the floor before scrambling into bed. Dorian can’t help but snicker at that. 

Veslyn is quick and eager, taking his place on the bed. The way Veslyn looks up at him, those lavender eyes stare up at the mage, waiting for his next move, was something close to adorable. He looks like he’s on high alert, similar to how he looks during battle. It’s a primal look; the look is caught somewhere between a prey trapped by its pursuer and the look of the pursuer before devouring its catch. It made Dorian’s heart lurch in his chest.

Dorian settles in the space between his legs, leaning over him and dragging his lips along the tattooed flesh of his torso. He admires the man’s ink, the way the golden lines ripple as each muscle shifts. He moves lower, brushing his lips along pale thighs, stopping here and there to suck marks against the skin. Marks for only their eyes, marks that utterly claimed Veslyn as his own. Should anyone sneak a glance at them, they’d know that the Inquisitor was taken. By a Vint no less. Truly scandalous. Mother Giselle would have a fit at this. It was exciting to think about. Going against what the Chantry believed in the pursuit of pleasure, knowing he was seen as some great corrupter of the poor Dalish elf. If only they knew the real Lavellan. They surely wouldn’t think Dorian to be the only bad influence if they did.

“Fuck me, please.” Veslyn whimpers, the words dripping with sin. He rocks his hips back, breaking the mage from his train of thought. 

“I’ve yet to prepare you, my dear, don’t get too overzealous” Dorian chides. A short incantation leaves his lips before practiced oiled fingers make their way to prod at the man’s hole. He meets little resistance, much to his surprise. “Oh was someone having fun without me today?” 

The elf’s face flushes dark, turning to bury his face into the pillows. The mage pulls back just enough to be able to slip two more fingers into the man’s eager hole. Working him open and tearing him apart. Veslyn soaks it up, hips rocking to chase the pleasure that Dorian bestows upon him. 

Dorian presses his fingers into that soft bundle of nerves with a quick movement, gently stroking it. He observes the elfs movements and revels in how the elf’s back snaps like a bow, fingers grasping the sheets below with desperation. 

“Dorian, please.”

He laughs softly, withdrawing his fingers, and with the way Veslyn whines, he can’t help but wonder if his withdrawal was a good thing or not. “Turn over; I want you on your hands and knees.”

Veslyn, as obedient as ever, does as he’s told. Maneuvering himself into the position that Dorian asks of him so that he’s presenting himself for the other. Perhaps trying to entice him. Dorian takes note of this with a hum, leaning down to press a kiss to the Veslyn’s cheek.

“Come on, please fuck me already, Vhennan.” Veslyn whimpers, pressing his cheek into the pillow below him. “I’ve been good for you, haven’t I?”

“Mm yes, but I do love pulling you apart at the seams.” Dorian chuckles, his hands coming up to spread the globes of Veslyn’s ass to expose him further. Leaning down, he drags the flat of his tongue over his hole, reveling in the shiver that rolls through the elf. “I want you a wreck before my cock even gets in you.”

And with that, Dorian is eating the elf out with the eagerness of a starved man. Desperate to make his lover’s legs quake and for his words to fall short. For Dorian’s name to be on, his tongue said like a prayer for all those to hear. He wanted the people of Skyhold to listen to them, to hear the broken elvish caught in his throat, and to know how he dismantled their beloved Inquisitor. He wanted to leave Veslyn absolutely and utterly debauched. 

“Are you ready?”

“Please,” He rolls his hips in a feeble attempt of gaining some friction against his leaking cock. “Need you inside of me, Dorian, want to feel you so bad.”

“Your wish is my command, Inquisitor.” He says a smug look on his face as he flips the man over onto his back. Veslyn’s eyes look feral, only the barest hint of lavender showing. His pupils had consumed nearly all. This was a good look for him; wild eyes and short brunette undercut mussed in every direction. He settles back between the elf’s legs, one hand coming up to grasp at Veslyn’s thigh, the other grabbing the base of his cock. 

He pushed in slowly, a fluid but calculated movement until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed still for a moment, much to the dismay of the elf. He wasn’t in quite a sound mind, too desperate to get filled up rather than taking it slow for the sake of comfort. The man was no stranger to pain, and if Dorian was the one to inflict it, he doesn’t think it to be that bad. 

“Dorian, oh fuck, Vhennan, fuck me.” Veslyn whimpers, turning his head to press into the bedding. Dorian watched the way the other melted into the bed, his body going slack at the feeling of being stretched full. The sight alone is nearly enough to push him to the edge, and for that, he’s grateful that he isn’t daring to move yet.

A few moments passed before Veslyn’s incessant whines began to fill the room again, his hips rocking back in a silent plea for more. 

“Oh what your beloved followers would think of if they saw you like this.” Dorian growled, delivering an incredibly sharp thrust that drew a large gasp from the man below him. He was tight and warm around Dorian’s cock, and nothing could ever compete with the feeling of being buried balls deep in the elf. “Begging for the Evil Tevinter mage to fuck him into the bed like a common harlot.”

Veslyn’s hands flew up, desperately grasping at Dorian’s shoulders, his nails sinking into the dark flesh and dragging to leave his own mark. 

“Oh? Do you like the thought of that?” Dorian muses, increasing his pace to one that was brutal. The sounds of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. It was utterly obscene, the way each lewd noise echoed off the stone walls of the room, but it only spurred him on further. He could never get enough of how noisy the Inquisition was. He was needy for Dorian. 

“Yes, fuck,” Veslyn whimpered, eyes falling shut as his head fell back. “Want everyone to know I’m, ah, yours.”

“Fuck, Ves, Amatus.” Dorian could feel his own release drawing near, the pace he had set becoming stuttering and uneven. “So close. Where do you want me?”

Quickly, Veslyn moved to lock his legs around Dorian, drawing him impossibly closer with no possibility of escape. “Inside, inside, please.”

Dorian groaned at that, moving his hand between them to make quick work of the elf’s cock. There was no way he would finish before the other, even if that was becoming an increasingly difficult task at this rate. 

It didn’t take long for Veslyn to finish, for him to violently spasm against the other man with a cry as he coated both his hand and their stomachs in his seed. And Dorian was soon to follow him over the edge, his vision going white for a few moments as he spilled inside the man.

His body had a gentle buzz of contentment when he came to. Turning his attention to the elf below, he let out a satisfied hum at the elfs fucked out expression. He looked dazed, the scarred flesh of his face a deep pink. They remained like that for a brief moment before Dorian finds the strength to roll off the man and onto his back with a huff. 

“Thank you for that.” Veslyn murmurs, rolling over to press his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck. The other man puts his arm around Veslyn automatically, holding the man close and soaking up the afterglow with the other.

“It’s always shocking to see you so,” He pauses and thinks for a moment before his lips curl up in a bit of a smirk, “Submissive. You command your followers with such ferocity, but you’re so docile in bed. Just begging for me to have my way with you.”

Veslyn’s face flushes a deep red, burying his face further into the man’s neck. “I didn’t see you complaining.”

“Never said I was, Amatus. Just a mere observation” 

Veslyn hums softly at that, moving into a sitting position. There was a subtle ache that spread through his muscles. It was different from his post-battle aches; it was pleasant and left feelings of warmth to seep through his system. He was relaxed, lost in the aftermath of bliss that slowed his brain to a crawl. He gets to his feet, grabbing a blanket from the bed to bundle up in. 

He moves through the room with a clear purpose, acutely aware of the steel eyes that traced his every movement. He only returns to the comforts of the bed when he has his pipe in hand, the bowl packed with elf root. 

Dorian can’t help but bark out a laugh at this. “And they say I’m the bad influence on you.”

“You still are,” Veslyn teases, holding out the pipe expectantly for the other man. Dorian doesn’t need to be told what to do. A flick of fire and the bowl is lit for the elf. He hums softly and takes a long drag. “And now you’re also an accomplice in my own poor behavior.”

“Perhaps, but you love it.” Dorian flops back into the bed, drawing the wool blanket up around him. He watches the smoke expelled curl in the air, watches it drift, and dissipates into the high ceilings. He’s certain Josie would throw a fit if she knew what the elf got up to behind closed doors and up the stone staircase. “An accomplice only makes things more fun.”

“Exactly, Vhenan.” He finishes off the bowl, the feelings of the elf root beginning to take hold. He puts the pipe on the night table beside them to be dealt with later. For now, he wished to be curled up in the other’s arms. The elf sneaks under the blankets, moving in close so that he could rest his head atop the mage’s chest. “I wish every day could be like this.”

“Getting fucked into the mattress?” Dorian teases, hands tracing along the golden Vallaslin painting his skin. 

“No, well, yes, but I mean just laying in bed with you.” He closes his eyes, lets his mind wander to what that would be like. It would be simpler than how it is now, easier on the soul. Times like this, there was nothing but warmth brought on by Dorian. It was unspoken, but he loved Dorian. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though each time he didn’t it left a feeling of bitter regret to curl in his stomach. There was a fear of those words, they weighed a lot, and even if he was sure it was mutual, he couldn’t say it. As Dorian had once said, this arrangement wasn’t wise. “Just the two of us where none of this was happening.”

“That would be nice.” Dorian agrees, pressing a kiss to Veslyn’s temple, “One day, that could be us.”

“I hope so.”


End file.
